No more pain
by Pebblez24
Summary: She cannot take anymore pain. 'Please don't hurt me'. He holds her tighter.


It's the end of the shift. She know she needs to get back, get home to Emma. Just sat there, looking into nothingness. No real thoughts, no emotion, no anything.

A knock.

He walks in. Sorrow is on his face just like everyone elses… and maybe hers but she doesn't know for sure. Too immersed in her nothingness.

'Jac you need to head home.' His gruff voice knocks her from her blank, still, dark mind. She just stares.

'Jac! Come on, do you want me to take you? How did you get to work today?' He sees her gulp, sees her start to process his words. He waits.

'I brought my bike' Her voice is also gruff, her eyes vacant and she is definitely not in a position to be taking herself home. Not on her bike for sure.

…

She walks through her front door. The house is quiet and there's that dim glow of the hall lamp the nanny always leaves on for her.

Walking into the kitchen she murmurs a quick 'thanks' to Christina and tells her she won't be needed tomorrow. The woman glances over Jac's shoulder but says nothing, just nods and heads down the hall to the front door.

Jac braces her hand, herself against the island. He watches her shoulders sag for a brief second before she turns on her heel faster than either could expect. He is standing too close and has to grab her upper arms to prevent her from stumbling backwards. There is a moment where their eyes meet but just a moment. She sidesteps and makes her way to the stairs. He doesn't follow.

Slowly making her way up the stairs. Only one destination on her mind. Emma. She has to see Emma. The door is ajar. A small night light just to the side of it. Close enough, she can sneak her hand in to switch it off before heading to bed herself. She doesn't.

Pushing the door open, the sound of her daughter's small huffs of breath make her heart lurch in her chest. It's almost painful. _No_ it is painful. That dull ache stretching from the middle of her heart, across her chest. A dry throat. A sickliness settles in her stomach. Closing her eyes she exhales a long drawn out breath.

Emma is still, curled on her side away from the door. Dressed in her favourite pyjamas. They were the gift Jasmine put on her desk this Christmas. She will never meet her aunty. Jac had struggled to explain who the gift was from. Sure she had an uncle from Jonny's side of the family. There were questions. Of course there were. Jac even made a point of saying 'Aunty Jasmine' but when asked why she hadn't seen this aunty, when would she meet this person? Jac just shrugged 'not yet'. There had been moments when there was a very real, definite consideration of allowing them to meet. Allowing Jasmine to meet them at Emma's favourite park. These thoughts always disappeared shortly after they came. They were always accompanied by that pang of pain from abandonment. She would never, _never_ let Emma feel the abandonment of a family member. The disappointment. No. And now she never would.

He watches from the door. He had waited downstairs only moments. Now a voyeur to this devastated woman. Sure he had seen many sides, but not the mother, not the true sister, not the heartbroken loneliness that coats the room. Jac leans over Emma, places a hand on the far side before settling precariously on the edge of the small bed. Just looks. A minute passes. Then another. Another. Finally her left hand brushes the child's fringe from her face. A sweet kiss held against her forehead, 'I love you'. 'Mummy loves you so much'. Emma's body shifts slightly, perhaps moving closer to her mother's voice, her warmth, her love. Again, she sweeps a gentle hand across her daughter's forehead, followed by a kiss. She pushes away and stands on clumsy legs.

Finally she sees him stood there like a sentinel. Oh the cliché of his shadowy figure surrounded by the orange glow of another lamp left on at the top of the stairs. Her breathes come faster, shallower, shorter. Of course she knows what this is. Her mind races. 'Don't do this. Come on Jac, stop' her internal thoughts scream at the silliness but unstoppable onslaught of panic. How silly she thinks, to be having a panic attack in her daughter's bedroom at… her watch states midnight, 12:02. The anguish, the pain is overtaking all rational thought. A hand reaches toward her. Grabs her through the door and to the side while the other shuts it behind her.

Braced against the wall. A hand steadily held against her stomach. Her head is thrown backwards for mere seconds before it is too much. Grasping at that hand, at her stomach as her body folds in on itself, bending at the hips. Still she cannot quite take a deep enough breath. 'It's ok'… 'It's ok Jac'… 'Breath'.

She feels her throat tightening. 'breath?' What a stupid suggestion. She is _trying_ to breath. Trying to get herself under control but she can't. Not yet. The sorrow is too strong. Pushing her under. A sob. She pushes her hand over her mouth to muffle it but is still struggling to breath. She feels herself being manipulated into an upright position once again and turned towards her bedroom door. He has been here before. Knows where certain things are. He pushes her body in that direction. Not unkindly but with no room for argument. At this moment in time there is no argument or protest. No strength.

Just within the bedroom, enough so the door can be closed behind. A light is switched on and then she is on the floor. Legs giving way. Sorrow literally bringing her to her knees as another sob is emitted followed by another, another, another. No attempts to cover them now with two closed doors between her and her daughter. The tears are falling fast into the plush cream carpet below her crumpled form.

He watches for a second before sweeping down behind and just holding on. No fears from a persisting panic attack just the force of the sorrow. A sorrow that has shattered any niggling doubt that this woman does feel. Feel as deeply as anyone else. The ice queen blown to shards instead of the beautifully frozen sculpture of cold, breath-taking wonder. No there is nothing to wonder about in this moment, she is as easy to read and understand as anyone else. That is the thing about that first real moment when heartbreak and loss hits. There is no hiding or mask to be upheld. Just pure emotion.

Time is matterless. Everything is. The sobs subside into whimpers and he feels the moment she gives up all pretence, the last fragments of strength. She sags against him completely, happy… no not happy, uncaring of being held by someone other than herself. His knees ache and he wonders if hers do too. She has been in this position longer. He manoeuvres his legs to either side of hers. Silently grateful that they are still near the door he now slumps against. She feels her body being pulled backwards a fraction and her bottom land softly against the carpet. Her body is now slightly twisted but neither care to right this. It just means she leans her head against his chest, over his heart. The soft thud of it calming. He strokes his hand up and down her outer one. Brushes her hair from her shoulder and down her back.

…

The moment she shifts he knows it is over. Knows he will be heading home and leaving her with her loss. She makes an effort to sit up straight, turning towards him as he keeps a hold of her shoulders to help. She seems to talk herself into making eye contact with him. An effort she succeeds in finally as he stares into her wet, red eyes. No signs of make-up and he wonders where it has gone. No signs of it under her eyes or against her cheek. Heartbreakingly beautiful. Now just looking, watching each other.

'You should go' her eyes flutter down momentarily, then straight back up 'thank you'. He pulls his knees up before leaning forward and pulling her in for an awkward hug. She accepts. He's relieved. 'Never thank me for this Jac.' He wants to stay. Doesn't want to leave her like this. From what he has learnt she has spent too much of her life alone. Maybe she enjoys it, needs it. But. How he wishes it were different. Could be different in their future. Future. Do they have one? These last weeks say that one does not exist for them. Do relationships born of sorrow ever truly last?

'Jac I want to stay here with you.' He strokes a hand down her hair like he had done earlier. 'Let me stay.' It isn't a question, a request. He hopes she accepts. Her breath catches a moment. Abandonment and disappointment. That's all she knows. Her mother, Joseph, Jonny, Mateo, Jasmine. Everyone else in her past. Sure, she has pushed some, _most_ away. Protection. She had to, has to protect herself and her daughter. But does she?

She has done everything to prevent a relationship with her sister. Tried to keep her at arm's length. Had she embraced her from the beginning perhaps there could have been a real relationship, then again, had this situation still happened, the pain would be worse, harder. Wouldn't it?

'I don't want to be alone' whispered into his shoulder. Oh how vulnerable. Open. He was the last to hurt her. Emotionally closed off and unwilling to let her in. What is she doing? Things would need to be different. He would need to be open. _She_ would need to be open. Secrets shared. He once said he would never ask her her secrets. She is ready to share but not without mutuality. Right now though, she doesn't want the loneliness and ache to grow in her chest. She is certain it will if she gets into bed alone tonight. If it does, she… she knows that will be it. She will never allow anyone emotionally or romantically near her again. Not after this unnecessary loss.

He cannot fix this or take it away but she doesn't have to be alone with the grief. He has offered and she is accepting. Allowing him in to see all of her. She cannot take anymore pain. 'Please don't hurt me'. He holds her tighter. Shifts them quickly to standing and leading her towards the bed. Too tired to truly undress either of them he slips his shoes off. Encourages her to sit on the bed once he moves the duvet away. He kneels before her, remove her shoes. Always watching. Never breaking eye contact. Oh how vulnerable. Lifting her legs up onto the bed she lies down, he climbs over her and she turns her body to follow. Moving like the sunflower to the sun. Beautifully choreographed. He lifts the duvet over them. Leaves his arm draped over her. 'Please'. Her eyes glaze over. Emotion? prolonged eye contact? never blinking. 'I will try Jac, I will do everything I can to not cause you pain. You've had enough, more than anyone deserves.' He doesn't know all of her pain. Doesn't believe he ever will but knows she is burdened by it. Scared of it even. And right now, scared of it consuming her. She ducks her head and curls ever more into herself. He kisses her head and tightens his arm. 'Sleep Jac, I'll still be here in the morning. You are safe'

...

I cannot believe there is nothing much to read. I hope that someone else can capture the emotion better than me. X


End file.
